


Give Me Your Love for Christmas

by Candy_A



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Holiday: xmas, M/M, None - Freeform, Series: The Diary Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:39:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candy_A/pseuds/Candy_A
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair try to have a Merry Christmas despite a big change in their holiday plans.<br/>This story is a sequel to For Better or For Worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me Your Love for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to do a major sequel to For Better or For Worse", but RL and my muse had other ideas. So if anyone wonders why Jim and Blair didn't go to Hawaii to get married during Christmas, read on... There is also a little answer to MegaRed's tickle challenge in here! 
> 
> Warnings: Love, a little sex, and some smarmy stuff ahead...

## Give Me Your Love for Christmas

by Candy Apple

Author's webpage: <http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/3281>

Author's disclaimer: Pet Fly owns the guys and The Sentinel. No money being made. Just for fun.

* * *

Jim stirred and opened his eyes. The big bed was empty and considerably colder, which meant Blair was back up again, staring out a window somewhere in the loft. He hauled himself out of bed and pulled on his robe, slid his feet into slippers to battle the icy floors of the loft, and headed downstairs. As predicted, there was Blair, wrapped up in a blanket, sitting on a pillow in front of the long windows by the balcony. 

"Still snowing?" Jim asked softly. The huddled form near the window started a little, then nodded slowly. "Baby, everything's shut down. There's an eight foot drift in front of the door downstairs. The can't even keep up with the storm to get things cleaned out." Jim grabbed one of the throw pillows and tossed it down behind Blair. Kneeling on it, he wrapped his arms around the smaller body, pulling Blair close against him. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. You know I'd get us out of here and to an open airport if I could figure out a way." 

"I know. I just...I keep hope it's gonna stop snowing. I mean, I didn't even know there _was_ this much snow possible." Blair shook his head slowly. "I thought that on Christmas Eve, at least somewhere in the world, we'd be legally married." 

"I'm disappointed too, sweetheart. But things could be worse. At least we're snowed in together." 

"I know I'm being dumb about this. It just...means so much to me for us to get married." Blair sighed and leaned into the warmth of Jim's embrace. 

"I couldn't feel more married to you if we had twelve ceremonies, baby. You're part of me. It doesn't get any closer or more committed than that." 

"I feel the same way. But I still want the wedding." 

"I know. We'll have it. Just not over Christmas. Look on the bright side. At least I'm not withholding my favors until you make an honest man out of me." Jim smiled as he felt the rumble of Blair's laughter against his chest. 

"Isn't there a saying about closing the barn door after the horse is already out?" Blair ventured. 

"Smart-mouthed little shit." Jim contradicted his words by nibbling at Blair's earlobe, then kissing his neck. 

"I can't even _see_ the balcony furniture anymore." 

"You want to make a snowman out there tomorrow?" 

"On the balcony?" Blair twisted a little in Jim's arms to look directly at him. 

"Why not? We've got enough snow. Then we'll put the tree up." 

"How're we going to get out to get a Christmas tree? Man, you were right. We should've decorated for Christmas. I just figured we be in Hawaii--" 

"Carolyn bought an artificial tree. It's a big sucker. Ten feet tall, I think. I keep it stored in the basement. It was too big for anyplace she moved into after the divorce. I got custody of the tree." 

"Does she have visitation rights?" 

"Nope." Jim smiled and squeezed Blair. "Ever made love under a Christmas tree before?" 

"Uhhh...no. I think that would be a first for me." 

"Then we have the whole problem solved. We have a Christmas tree and one hell of a present to put under it." Jim smiled again. "Blair, I'm not trying to make light of this situation. I feel terrible about the timing on this damn blizzard. And I feel even lousier to have to call and cancel everything. But we're safe, alive, together-- and we can reschedule." 

"I know all that. It's just..." 

"Disappointing," Jim finished. 

"Yeah. Big time." 

"Guess I'll have to take your mind off it somehow." Jim slid his hand under Blair's robe and found a nipple, tweaking and rolling it to hardness. He was surprised to feel Blair stiffen a little and gently discourage his hand. 

"I'm just not in the mood, man." Blair kissed the hand he had pulled away from his chest. 

"Feel like you could sleep?" 

"Tried that. Ended up here. You can go back to bed if you want, love. I'm just going to sit here a while." 

"Let's put the tree up then." 

"What? Jim, it's three in the morning!" 

"So? It's not like we have to be at work anytime soon. Tomorrow's Christmas Eve. I think we're way overdue to get our tree put up." Jim stood and held out a hand to Blair, pulling him easily to his feet. "Come on. We'll get dressed and then go down and get it." 

"Aren't you sleepy?" Blair asked, still holding Jim's hand as they started upstairs for their clothes. 

"I'd rather be awake with you than asleep by myself anytime," Jim responded, grinning down at his lover as they reached the head of the stairs. "Besides, colored lights make me horny." Jim kissed Blair's hand and released it, moving toward the closet as the other man stood there pondering the implications of the statement. Next time he turned to look at Blair, there was an evil little grin on his face while he rifled the dresser drawer for a sweater. 

The artificial tree was hauled upstairs via the elevator, amid a flurry of grunts and curses as the two men attempted to guide the ungainly box down the hall and into their apartment without waking every neighbor along the way. Once safely back in the loft, Blair produced his Swiss Army knife and slit the tape sealing the box. 

"We need to clear a spot first. I think over by the stairs, huh? Guess we don't have to move much out of the way," Jim concluded, moving a few accumulated items in the area, including his gym bag, Blair's backpack and a couple spare pairs of shoes that managed to find their way downstairs from the bedroom closet. 

"This thing is really ten feet tall?" Blair asked again, opening the carton and inspecting one of the short branches that would be placed near the top. 

"Almost eleven with the star on top. Oh, shit." 

"What?" 

"The decorations are downstairs too." Jim exhaled loudly. "I'll go get those if you make us some hot chocolate." 

"Deal." Blair headed for the kitchen to complete his task. 

By seven that morning, the ten foot tree had been assembled, lights had been strung with Jim only coming close to falling off the ladder once, garlands and ornaments added and the star, which did indeed bring the tree's height to close to eleven feet. 

"Ready?" Jim asked, dangling the plug in one hand as he crouched near the outlet. 

"Anytime, man," Blair responded jovially. Jim plugged in the extension cord, and the tree came to life with a panorama of multicolored lights. "Wow," Blair commented, his voice a little hushed. 

"I don't remember it being this beautiful," Jim said honestly, walking over to join Blair where he stood several feet away from the tree. 

"As long as we're together, I think we could string lights on the plant over there and it would look great. Jim, I'm sorry I acted like such an ass about the Hawaii trip. You were right. We got snowed in together--that's the big thing." 

"Well, I wasn't exactly sensitive about it earlier, either." Jim slid his arm around Blair's shoulders. "Now, I recall you telling me you had a version of 'A Christmas Carol' I absolutely had to see." 

"Oh, yeah, man--it's great!" Blair hurried over to the VCR and picked up a plain plastic case from the video rental place. "You're sure you've never seen the musical version of it--with Albert Finney?" 

"Never." Jim laughed a little. "I'm still trying to picture that movie as a musical." 

"This is _the_ coolest movie," Blair enthused. "This version's just called 'Scrooge'. It came out back in 1970--you're sure you haven't seen it?" 

"I think I'd remember a musical Scrooge." Jim settled on the couch with his arm along the back, waiting for Blair to join him. 

"You're gonna love this, man." Blair snuggled in next to Jim and hit the 'play' button on the remote. 

"I already do," Jim responded softly, kissing Blair's temple and pulling him securely against his side. 

After the two-hour movie had come to a close, Jim had to admit he had thoroughly enjoyed it. The songs were memorable, and the major musical sequences were outstandingly choreographed. It was, overall, a fun and thoroughly entertaining way to watch an old classic. And it was very characteristic of Blair to select this lively variation as his personal favorite of the dozens of 'A Christmas Carol' movies that were out there. 

Blair had succumbed to sleep about halfway through the movie, and Jim had fully enjoyed watching both the movie and his sleeping lover for the last hour. Head resting on a sofa pillow in Jim's lap, the throw over him, Blair was sleeping soundly. Figuring that moving him would disturb him, but also that he'd doze off again just as easily, Jim carefully moved Blair so he could stand up. The light snoring faltered and after a couple of faces that were almost as expressive as the ones Blair could make when he was fully conscious, Blair seemed to go back into his deep sleep again. 

Knowing the selfless thing would be to leave him on the couch where he was, but wanting him snuggled up in bed where he belonged, Jim slid his arms under the sleeping form and gently lifted him off the couch with a little grunt. 

"Gettin' old, Ellison," Jim whispered to himself as he made his way laboriously to the stairs and hauled himself and his sleeping lover up to bed. 

"Jim?" One bleary blue eye took the trouble to open only widely enough to make sure it was the right person carrying Blair around. 

"Go back to sleep, angel," Jim responded, carefully lowering Blair onto the bed. He pulled off the smaller man's shoes and then kicked off his own, climbing on top of the rumpled bed to take a much-needed nap next to Blair. 

"Love you, mine," Blair murmured, nestling against Jim with an arm thrown over his lover's middle. 

"Love you too, sweetheart." Jim kissed the soft curls nearby and dozed off to sleep. 

* * *

The soft strains of Christmas music and the smell of something wonderful baking downstairs teased Jim out of his sleep. Forcing his eyes open, he saw that it was almost one in the afternoon. 

"Hey, what're you doing down there, Chief?" Jim looked over the railing at his lover, who was moving purposefully about the kitchen. 

"I had the greatest idea, man!" Blair checked on whatever was in the oven and then hurried upstairs and hopped onto the bed, kissing Jim thoroughly. "We're gonna have a Christmas party!" 

"I hate to break this to you, baby, but none of our friends can make it across town any better than we can." 

"I know that. But there's a whole bunch of people in the building here who got stuck by the storm and couldn't make it where they were going, or their company couldn't get here. Like the Benjamins downstairs?" Blair referred to the elderly couple, well into their eighties, who had unofficially adopted Blair as their grandson. Blair usually picked up money and a grocery list from Ruth Benjamin and did their grocery shopping when he did his and Jim's, and he often took them somewhere they needed to go when the roads were slippery and the elderly Isaac didn't feel too comfortable handling the driving. 

"Us and the Benjamins?" 

"And the Thompsons--they were supposed to go to her mother's but with the weather--oh, and then I ran into Stan--" 

"The pigeon guy?" 

"Yeah. I mean, he lives right next door and we almost never talk to him or anything. But we were talking about how much the weather sucked and everything and he said he was going to his parents' for Christmas, but then he couldn't go. And the Pattersons wanted to come too." 

"So you've set this all up already?" 

"Um, yeah, kind of. You're not mad, are you?" 

"It would be nice if you'd ask me about this stuff," Jim said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He saw the disappointment register on Blair's face. 

"I thought you'd like the idea. I mean, we have to be here, and all of us are missing out on something that we wanted to do and this way, while it's not as much fun as doing what we were gonna do if it hadn't snowed, at least we'd all get to do something kind of festive." 

"It sounds great," Jim responded, reaching out and caressing Blair's cheek lightly. "You know I wake up grumpy sometimes." 

"I hear that happens to people when they get older," Blair said seriously. 

"Oh is that right?" Jim asked, a feral gleam in his eyes. He pounced on a yelping Blair and pinned him down while his fingers danced mercilessly over the smaller man's stomach and sides, making him wiggle and laugh until he was red-faced and breathless. "Now, who's getting older?" Jim challenged. 

"Not you! Not you!" Blair gasped, still laughing breathlessly as the assault continued. 

"Wasn't that a terrible thing to say to me?" 

"Horrible!" Blair agreed, squealing and twitching as Jim hit a particularly sensitive spot. 

"Do I get an apology?" Jim asked sweetly. 

"I'm sorry! Oh, God, I'm dying here!" Blair kicked his legs furiously and tried to free himself. 

"Oh, all right," Jim said, grinning and releasing his panting, giggling lover. Lying on the bed, hair fanned out on the sheets, clothes rumpled, Blair was a delectable-looking delicacy. Just as Jim was contemplating which piece of clothing should hit the floor first, Blair was on his feet and moving toward the stairs. 

"Reflexes are slowing down too," he baited, then ran down the steps with Jim hot on his heels. When the other man caught him around the waist and hauled him down on the couch, Blair protested. 

"My muffins'll burn!" 

"That's a new term for it, but yeah, when I get done with you, your buns'll be warmed, anyway, smart mouth." Jim swatted at Blair's rear end. 

"I mean the ones in the oven. I worked real hard on those," Blair pouted. Knowing he was conquered, Jim kissed the end of Blair's nose and let go of him. "Like you'd ever really hit me, you big marshmallow." 

"You talk real tough when I let you get away," Jim countered. Blair was right and he knew it. The worst thing the younger man would have suffered was another round of tickling and a couple of hickeys that would have qualified for the Guinness Book of World Records. 

"I'm making those banana nut muffins you like." Blair pulled the tray out of the oven while Jim admired another set of muffins he liked pretty well as they were nicely displayed in the faded jeans. "Anyway, Ruth said she'd make those cheese and chive balls we like, and she has a bunch of steaks in their freezer in the basement. I, um, kind of said you'd grill the steaks." 

"I'm not standing outside to grill steaks, Chief." 

"Not on the balcony, man," Blair responded, laughing a little. "On the grill in the kitchen. And Stan has a bread machine, so he's going to make some stuff. Marcia Thompson said she'd make some salads, and Kelly Patterson's going to make a couple of pies. I'm making a bunch of hot hors d'eourves, some kind of potatoes--I haven't decided yet--anyhow, everybody'll show up about six-thirty. I have to go get the steaks from Ruth--or you could do that. And Stan has a small upright piano in his apartment--since we're right next door, and it has casters, we kinda talked about moving it over here--" 

"You want to move a piano in here?" Jim stared at Blair incredulously, now sitting against the back of the couch. 

"Well, yeah. I have my guitar, and with the piano, we could sing Christmas carols. Stan liked the idea." 

"Oh, Stan did, huh?" Jim walked over to where Blair was placing the muffins on a plate. "Should I be jealous of this jerk?" Jim nuzzled Blair's neck and kissed his cheek, wrapping powerful arms around him from behind. 

"Stan?!" Blair asked, chuckling. 

"Just be sure he knows you're taken." 

"Like the wedding band isn't kind of a hint, man," Blair replied, still smiling. "Are you really jealous?" 

"You want me to be?" 

"It's sort of cool, in a way. I think I like the whole possessive caveman thing." 

"You know, Sandburg, this is the second time in our relationship you've referred to me in some sort of prehistoric, neanderthal terms. So is this Stan character all polished and cultured?" Jim teased, nibbling at Blair's earlobe. 

"You've seen Stan, Jim. He's a nice guy. But I sure wouldn't drop my pants for him." 

"That's a relief," Jim responded, laughing at Blair's blunt reply. "I better be the only guy you drop your pants for. Which reminds me, when is that going to happen again?" 

"Tell you what. After the party, you can show me how horny colored lights really make you." 

"It's a date. Thanks for the muffins, Chief." Jim kissed the side of Blair's head and snagged one of the fat, warm muffins off the plate. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" He paused midway between the kitchen and living room. 

"Thanks for Christmas. I was really feeling lousy about it, but now...well, just...thanks, man." 

"You're welcome, sweetheart. I guess I should freshen up and go get those steaks, huh?" 

"Yeah, because we still have that snowman to make on the balcony, remember?" 

"How could I forget?" Jim smiled as he headed upstairs to change. 

* * *

Jim took one more look out the balcony doors at their handiwork. The snowman was a bit deformed, but he wore a fashionable combination of one of Jim's old caps, Blair's old scarf, a carrot for a nose, and a slight indentation where Blair had done plastic surgery to cover another location where Jim had insisted a carrot was necessary. A very erect carrot. 

The loft was filled with the smells of baking and cooking, soft Christmas music wafted in the air along with the scents, and the colored lights of the giant tree made the atmosphere almost magical. 

Blair was putting the finishing touches on setting a candlelit table as the first guests arrived. Jim moved toward the kitchen to take up his role as bartender. The appetizer course in itself was a feast, with Ruth's infamous cheese and chive balls, several hot items Blair had prepared during the day, and a relish tray Kelly Patterson had brought as one of her salads. 

All together, the loft was alive with the voices and movements of twelve people--Kelly and Mike Patterson and their three children, a pair of eight-year-old twin girls and a twelve-year-old boy; Marcia and Dave Thompson, a newly married couple who lived one floor below the loft, the Benjamins and Stan, the "pigeon guy" from next door. 

Stan took up residence at the piano and began giving the guests live Christmas music. Jim had to admit that Blair's idea had been nothing short of inspired, since the festive atmosphere and camaraderie of the group seemed to surpass each person's individual disappointment at the change in their holiday plans. Stuffed with a variety of tasty treats, singing Christmas carols by the cozy fire while Blair and Stan provided the instrumental accompaniment, the party-goers stayed long into the night. When they all finally dispersed in the small hours of the morning, many of the building's residents knew each other much better, and considered each other friends. 

"That was a hell of an idea, Chief," Jim commented as he carried another bunch of dirty glasses out to the kitchen. 

"It was really fun, wasn't it? Hey, Jim--that was our first real party as, you know, a couple. Pretty cool, huh?" 

"Very cool, sweetheart," Jim responded, smiling as he started rinsing out the glasses that seemed to be permanently coated with egg nog. "Bless Ruth for bringing the egg nog," he grumbled as he worked on the stubborn stickiness of the glasses. 

"Stan said he'd help us clean up tomorrow." 

"Stan can stay the hell in his apartment tomorrow. That guy's going to be treated to a free neutering service if he doesn't stop sniffing around after you," Jim retorted, wiping his hands on a nearby towel. 

"He's not sniffing after me--" 

"I heard him tell you he was gay." 

"That doesn't mean he wants me, Jim. Just because a guy's het doesn't mean he wants every woman he meets. Gay doesn't mean sex-crazed, man," Blair said, shaking his head a little as he picked up a few dirty plates and carried them to the sink. 

"Yeah, well, just stay away from him." 

"Hang on a minute, Jim. This jealousy thing is flattering as hell, but I don't plan to start taking orders about who I talk to." 

"That's tough shit because you're not hanging around with Stan while you're married to me, got it?" 

"What's got you so worked up about this? What'd he do? Was it something you could detect that I couldn't?" Blair's question pierced through Jim's haze of irritation at the reasonably attractive thirtysomething man next door. Grateful that Blair loved and knew him enough not to escalate this into an unpleasant fight, Jim took his lover into his arms. 

"His pulse went up every time you came near him, his body temperature went way up when you sat on the piano bench with him to sing that one song, and he was damn near giving off a scent--well, actually, he was giving off a scent, now that I think about it. I'm not saying he wasn't a perfect gentleman, and I'm not saying that his being gay makes him less trustworthy. Shit, that would be the pot calling the kettle black under the circumstances. But he _is_ attracted to you and I guess...I guess I think you seem a little interested in him." Jim waited for an explosion. Blair's arms just tightened around the larger man's waist. 

"How could you even worry about that, man? Don't you know you're everything I want?" 

"I don't sing and play the piano and raise pigeons and go to art shows." 

"I don't bench press giant weights, shoot guns with deadly precision or have five heightened senses, and you still love me. The things that Stan does that makes him interesting to me...they're the things that might lead me to make a friend, but they sure as hell wouldn't be the basis for a lifetime commitment. And there's nobody that could even turn my head as long as I've got you." 

"It's not that I don't trust you. I don't...I don't know exactly." 

"Hey, all this is new to both of us." Blair pulled back. "We haven't been with men before...I guess it's kind of natural to worry about holding each other's interest, keeping the attraction going. I mean we started out as buddies." Blair took both of Jim's hands in his. "There're times when...when some really gorgeous woman is trying to come on to you that I just...freeze up inside. I trust you 1,000%. I don't ever think you'd cheat on me. But I guess it would kill me if I thought you wanted to. And sometimes it scares me." 

"You said it all, sweetheart. But when I was falling in love with you, I had sexual flings with a couple different women. They were hollow and empty. I'm not saying I didn't get off or they weren't good physically and relieved some tension. But they were empty. So why would I want to have an empty dose of hot sex with someone else when I could have mind-blowing sex that meant everything with you?" 

"Guess it's your turn to say it all, lover. I feel the same way. And somebody like Stan...he's a nice guy, but he's not you. Nobody else could ever be what you are to me. And if my talking to Stan bothers you, then it's not worth doing." 

"I had no right to give you orders, baby. It's your life. You should feel free to talk to whomever you choose." 

"It's _our_ life, Jim. And I'm freely choosing to keep things real casual and cool with Stan because I don't want you to be uncomfortable with it. Besides, I already told him we could take care of cleaning up on our own. I don't want to live with the guy just because we made friends with him." 

"I won't hand down any more ultimatums, okay?" 

"If you feel that strongly about something, I want you to tell me. I'm not promising to always 'fall into line'' with what you want me to do but if I can handle doing things the way you want me to, you know I will." 

"I want you to be you, Blair. I don't want to change that." 

"You won't. Except to maybe make it better." Blair smiled. "I thought you said colored lights made you horny? Think you could prove it to me?" 

"You bet I will, baby. But there's something I want you to know first. Earlier, you thanked me for Christmas. I just want to thank you for making every day of my life ten times better than the best Christmases I had before you came into my life. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, angel. I love you." Jim smiled at Blair's speechlessness, and the moisture in the large blue eyes focused so intently on him. "Let me show you?" he whispered hotly in Blair's ear, pulling the smaller body close against him again. 

"Yesss," was the hushed reply as Blair's arms came up around Jim. 

The two men gathered sofa cushions and placed them near the sparkling Christmas tree, covering them with blankets from Blair's old bedroom. Stretching out together, they began kissing, content for the moment just to share the closeness and intimacy of the embrace and the duel of tongues. 

"Green is beautiful on you," Jim murmured, slowly unbuttoning Blair's emerald green silk shirt. 

"It ought to be illegal for you to wear blue, man. What it does for those eyes," Blair responded, smiling as he began his own work on Jim's buttons. 

Soft strains of Christmas music from the stereo was the soundtrack for their gentle exploration of each other, as clothing was removed and discarded. 

"Do you think you might be available on Valentine's Day? I'd really like to marry you officially then," Jim whispered to Blair, lightly stroking his lover's shoulder and upper arm. 

"That would be so perfect," Blair replied between little kisses to Jim's throat. "I love you so much, mine. I could never live long enough to tell you how much." 

"Same here, baby. I could never put it in words either. There aren't any." 

With a prolonged kiss, they began a gentle rocking motion, sliding their hardened lengths together, trapped between their entwined bodies, which were bathed in the multi-colored glow of the Christmas lights. Their mingled moans and then cries of passion rose momentarily above the soft music, the consummation of their love sealing them together as they held each other through the aftershocks. 

"Merry Christmas, angel," Jim whispered into Blair's ear, then kissed it. "I love you." 

"Merry Christmas, mine. I love you, too," Blair added, planting a little kiss on Jim's chest. 

"Always and forever." 

End 


End file.
